


One Last Chance

by 1StaleDonut



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Call this Super Smash Bros. because EVERYONE'S HERE LMAO, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-01-06 08:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21223391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1StaleDonut/pseuds/1StaleDonut
Summary: The Entity is starving, and desperately needs to provide the Survivors with as much hope as possible.All 19 Survivors and 4 lucky Killers will be given the chance to escape the Entity's realm in one grand final trial.Any Survivor who survives this trial will be taken back to their world at the moment that they went missing; Any Survivor who fails to escape will be stuck in this hell for the rest of eternity. The Killer who kills the most Survivors will also be given back their freedom.The rules are simple: 25 generators, 6 exit gates, 4 memento moris, and 1 last chance.





	1. The Idea

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, so constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated :)
> 
> I'm planning to do everyone's POV at least once over the course of this fic (depending on how long they live mwahahahahaha) so this is gonna be pretty long lol
> 
> I'll try to update every 4-7 days.
> 
> Enjoy!

**The Entity**

It shuddered and groaned in a language that no other being could comprehend. It was restless and bored, but above that, it was _starving_. Its powers had weakened from overuse. It chastised itself for being so greedy; Did it really think that there would be no consequences for taking so many people as fast as it had? This was the first time that it had tried taking so many subjects in such a short amount of time. In just 3 years, it had accumulated nearly 20 victims and 20 servants.

Building so many trial grounds and molding each Killer to its liking had taken a toll on the Entity. This wasn't even taking into account how many of the subjects the Entity had to breathe life into, since several of them were long dead in their own worlds. The Entity was the only thing keeping them alive. One wrong move and Rin Yamaoka would succumb to the wounds her father had inflicted so long ago; Adam Francis would be mangled by the wreckage that the Entity had so narrowly saved him from.

The hunger had become too much to bear. It knew that it had to do something drastic, to collect as much food as possible while also ridding itself of some of the humans it had brought here. But what?

It gazed upon its domain, including the campfire the Survivors called home, where the botanist was showing the track star how to make bandages from nature. It looked on as the man in the yellow apron cooked a disgusting concoction for the emaciated swamp dweller.  It watched over the sickly priestess as she prepared for her next trial.

Then, the Entity knew its solution; A trial unlike any before. One last chance for the subjects of this realm to return to their homes. The Entity thought longingly of the feast it would have after a trial like that, and immediately began working.

This had to be larger than any trial grounds it had ever built. In order to create a new, unique trial grounds, the Entity would have to take another servant, which was out of the question. Instead, it would combine the already existing places, mashing them together like the bizarre works of the artist from Ormond; Full of contrasting colors and styles. The Entity worked tirelessly, getting by on meager meals from ongoing trials. Time was not linear in its home, but the Entity knew this was its biggest and longest creation yet. When it was finally done, it checked over its work, scouring it for any errors. Eventually, it stopped, satisfied by what it had made for the trial.

What it had created was truly massive, about the size of a small city: The stairs in the Temple of Purgation led down into the laboratory of Hawkins, Indiana, while the MacMillan mines were surrounded by cornfields. Haddonfield and Badham had been combined to make one large neighborhood next to the caravan that the Clown called home. The Asylum that Sally Smithson had worked in for decades was filled with large chunks of the Gideon Meat Plant.

It knew that there was still work to be done, but The Entity felt pure excitement. Once the Killers who will participate have been determined, the grand trial will begin and it won't have to worry about starvation for eons to come. It was almost time.

The Entity shivered in anticipation.


	2. The Delinquent and the Singer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nea's in a bad mood, and a certain Killer has important news for our oblivious Survivors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's much longer than the other one, thankfully, and I actually include multiple POVs this time. Thanks for reading!

**Nea Karlsson**

Fuck this place and everyone in it.

“That was my last toolbox, asshole!” I spat. Ace flashed his usual grin and chuckled as he claimed his winnings.

“You’ve got talent, kid, but luck beats talent _every time_.” What a douchebag. He sure as hell won’t be smiling when I toss his deck of cards into the campfire.

As if one senile dickwad wasn’t enough, Bill chimed in with his own two cents. Like he _always _does. “After all this time, you’re still trying to beat Ace at his own game? Hmph. A good soldier knows how to pick his battles.”

“What the hell do you think this is, bootcamp? I don’t need your shitty advice, but I **did **need that toolbox!” I shouted. Everyone fell silent at my outburst. Back home, raising my voice was all that it took to get my parents and teachers off my case. It had been so easy back then, but I learned quickly that the people here had a much lower tolerance for shit-talking. Bill’s expression turned from mildly annoyed to furious. “Nobody wants to hear your horseshit, little girl. Quit whining and have some respect.”

Before I could tell Bill where to shove his respect, Claudette stepped in. “Look, I know that we have our differences, b-but this isn’t really the time for petty arguments, i-is it?” She turned to me. “Nea, I know that you’re not happy, but Bill _does_ deserve some respect. He’s a veteran, after all.”

Oh **_hell _**no. Did she really just side with him over me? I took a step toward her, making her flinch, but Jake gave me a dark glare. Oh, right, those two are a thing now, apparently. I’d seen some overprotective boyfriends, but Jake was just straight-up creepy as fuck.

Claudette’s last comment got a laugh from David King, who was sitting on a log, blatantly ogling Meg as she stretched nearby. “Do ye really still believe that he’s an actual veteran? We can’t trust anything he says after that rubbish he told us about a **zombie apocalypse**! As far as I can tell, he’s just a crazy guy with Alzheimer’s!”

I smirked, proud to finally have someone on my side, but my argument with Bill was soon forgotten as the group began yet another heated debate over the validity of Bill’s claims, everyone talking over one another. It wasn’t the first time that we’d argued over this, but we still couldn’t decide what to make of the tales Bill told us about his life before coming to this place. All I know is that Bill’s story reeks of bullshit, and I won’t believe anything until I see it for myself; I also knew that everyone talking at once was pissing me off, and fast.

“Well, he’s wearing a uniform, so we know he isn’t lying about the veteran thing, at least. I still doubt that there were any zombies, though.” The quiet teacher said. I keep my distance from people like him; They always think they can turn me around, change me into a star student and a perfect daughter. Fuck that.

“That could just be a costume, though. I’ve seen professional clothing designers at work, and they make that ‘uniform’ look like a Party City Halloween get-up.” The talk show host countered. Mother loved watching Jane on TV because she ‘helped her learn about American culture’. I loathed every episode mom forced me to watch.

“Jesus Christ, can we speak one at a time, or are you all children?” The detective added. Like the teacher, I try to avoid people like him. I have many bad memories involving police officers. They always think I’m up to trouble. They’re usually right, but it’s still a major pain in the ass.

“Maybe the old guy’s actually a Russian spy?” The teen in the goofy sailor uniform said. He’s lucky he has great hair, because he’s probably the dumbest person I’ve ever met. He oozed the same reckless confidence as all the pretty boys at the American high school I went to. Well, I usually skipped school, but I could tell that the people there were just like this guy. Bill snapped at his accusation, muttered “I’m not a damn Commie, kid.” and took out another cigarette.

“It’d be cool if there were zombies, but I doubt that an apocalypse actually happened. Bill says he was taken in 2008, but I was taken in 2016 and definitely didn’t see any zombies… besides the ones from COD.” Was all Feng said about Bill before going off on a tangent about zombie games. Nerd.

“Uhh, what’s ‘COD’? The only cod we had in the 90’s was the fish.” Jeff asked innocently. If he wasn’t twice Feng’s size, I think she would’ve killed him right then and there. She may be a nerd, but I can relate to her passion; I remember getting royally pissed whenever anyone criticized my graffiti.

“Well, where Steve and I are from, Laurie and her brother are just characters in a movie, but they’re real here. Maybe Bill’s apocalypse happened in a different dimension?” The girl in the striped sweater speculated. Hm, that’s actually a good theory. She might be new to this place, but she’s not as stupid as her friend. I’ll have to keep that in mind.

Meanwhile, Bill was fuming in the corner, clearly offended that he was being called into question yet again. At that moment, I couldn’t have been happier. Unfortunately, good things never last; I learned that the moment my parents dragged me away from my _real _home, Sweden.

With the chaos ensuing at our campfire, I failed to notice the fog rolling in around me until it circled the entire area. I assumed that a trial was beginning and braced myself in case I was chosen. Hopefully I’d get some competent teammates, like Laurie, Ash, or Meg. They actually know how to outsmart and outrun the Killers, while pussies like Dwight Fairfield sit in lockers whenever the Killer comes near the generator he’s on.

After a tense few seconds, I sighed in relief when I realized that I wasn’t one of the unlucky four… this time. In fact, _nobody _had been taken to a trial. I looked around in confusion before noticing that the singer---Kate, I think? There are so many people here now that I can’t be bothered to remember all their names---spotted something on the ground amidst the fog. She picked up what looked like an ancient piece of paper. As she read, her eyes widened in shock. She tried to get everyone’s attention, but even a voice as piercing as hers was drowned out by the surrounding cacophony.

Are you shitting me? This was something that could actually be interesting, a break from the monotony of this place, and these assholes want to ignore it? I’ve had enough of their bitching.

“**_SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP._**” I screamed, satisfied after silencing the entire group for the second time in just a few minutes. Now having everyone’s attention, I pointed at the singer. “What are you waiting for? Read the damn thing!”

“Right.” She nodded, grateful. Clearing her throat, she explained what the note was:

“It’s a letter… from Dr. Carter.”

* * *

**Herman Carter**

I’m a wise man, wise enough to know my only flaw: A lack of self-control.

That’s why I adore this realm. I don’t have to have self-control here. In fact, I’m actively rewarded for conducting any experiment that I desire, and oh, do I have an endless amount of experiments to conduct.

Perhaps that is why the ruler of this realm has taken such a liking to me? I’m most definitely not the one who’s been here the longest, and yet I’m the one who has been chosen to undertake such a momentous task: Notifying the others of the grand trial.

I had been studying data that I had collected in a recent trial when it came to me. This thing, The Creator of this wondrous place, came to me through a thick fog, rolling into my office and heavily limiting my vision. I had thought that I was going into another trial, but it was soon clear that this was different.

The Creator doesn’t need to speak to me for me to understand its intentions. I can feel when it is displeased with me after a trial where I’ve performed poorly. I can sense when it is proud of my utter devotion and gratitude to it. I’ve felt its wants, its needs, its scorn, its benevolence. However, this was the first time that I felt its _desperation_, its _hunger_. It needed me, not for sacrifices, but for **translation**.

The victims can’t sense The Creator in the same way that I can. From the few interactions I’ve had with the other Killers, it seems that they don’t have this connection, either. Some of them look at me like I’m a monster, like I’m terrible for taking advantage of the test subjects The Creator has so graciously given to me. No matter; They’re expendable, but I am the favorite, the most loyal servant, and the one who will tell them all the rules of the grand trial.

I jot down the rules onto an old sheet of paper as fast as I can write. It doesn’t look good---I vaguely remember there being a joke about doctors having bad handwriting, in my old life---but it gets the necessary information across. I wish I could see their reactions when they learn of this grand trial, how their brains process this vital information. I’d love to see how their reactions change based on how much electricity I shock them with… but that isn’t what’s important at this moment.

I finish the letter and reread it, admiring my handiwork. The Creator is more than pleased with me, and I feel immense pride. After seeing no errors in my writing, I inform The Creator that it is finished.

The fog rolls in once more, and both the letter and The Creator are gone when it finally lifts.

* * *

**Kate Denson**

I couldn’t believe what I was reading.

Scrawled in terrible handwriting was an honest-to-God letter from a Killer.

“They can communicate with us outside of trials now?!” The normally reserved Laurie exclaimed. Quentin’s eyes widened, likely afraid that Freddy could once again terrorize him in his sleep. If Freddy could really do all the things in the real world that Quentin said he could, maybe Bill’s story wasn’t as farfetched as we thought…

“Yes, I believe so.” I replied, scanning the letter once again, taking in every letter to make sure that I hadn’t misread Dr. Carter’s hastily scribbled signature. However, the handwriting is barely legible; I can only discern a few words.

The others were becoming more and more impatient. “I can’t make out anything besides the signature…” I explained, downtrodden. “That’s alright, doll,” Ace assured me, and then turned towards Adam. “Maybe the human dictionary can figure this out.”

If I had met Ace before this nightmare, in some sleazy bar, I’d probably find him disgusting, but it’s nice to have someone as lighthearted as him in a place like this. He teaches me how to master his card games, and in return, I give him guitar lessons in between trials. He’s pretty bad at it so far, but my dad taught me that hard work and resilience are all that you need to be successful.

Adam was embarrassed by Ace’s compliment, but walked over and took the letter from me nonetheless. As Adam prepared to read, Ash looked as though he suddenly remembered something. He sprinted over and snatched the letter from Adam’s hands, telling him not to recite it out loud.

“What’s the deal, grandpa?” Jake asked, making Dwight giggle and Claudette blush. “Jake,” she playfully scolded, “Ash probably has a good reason for being so cautious. Give him a chance.” Jake rolled his eyes, but smiled back at her.

Ash seemed satisfied after another moment of reading, stating that he “had to make sure it wasn’t text from the Necronomicon,” whatever the hell that was. I get that Ash is a bit of a lone wolf, but if this Necronomicon is really so dangerous, why didn’t he bring it up before?

“Alright, unless there are any further objections, I’ll now read the letter.” Adam stated robotically, lecturing us in the same way that he likely lectured his students. The thought of that made me upset; Those kids probably missed Adam so much…

Adam took a deep breath and calmly began reading.

_“Dear victims,_

_ The Creator has informed me of a massive upcoming event—The Grand Trial.”_

What the hell? A grand trial? How could this be any worse than the trials I’ve already been through?

I still remember that first trial: Stumbling into a chapel, scared and alone, fearing for my life as The Clown relentlessly hunted me down. I didn’t survive very long.

And what is “The Creator?” Is he referring to The Spider?

_“You will all be granted the chance to escape this domain and return to your individual time periods---once and for all. All of you will enter a trial together against four Killers, and will have to complete 25 out of 30 generators in order to power any of the six exit gates.”_

This elicited gasps and murmurs of disbelief among the group, before Nea silenced everyone for a third time. Was this really true? Did we really have a chance to go back to our normal lives? I thought longingly of my family and my fans. I had grown sick of this torture long ago; I could hardly imagine how Dwight, Meg, Claudette, and Jake feel. They were the first four to be taken, and had suffered here far longer than me.

Just as we felt genuine hope, the letter took a dark turn.

_“However, this will be your **only **chance at freedom; if you fail this time, you will be stuck here forever. Perform well in this trial and be grateful that The Creator is giving you this luxury.”_

_“One last thing: There shall be no items brought in this trial, although you can still loot chests in the trial grounds. You will have to rely on your wits, instincts, and luck alone. I look forward to seeing which of you pass this test._

_Best of luck,_

_Dr. Carter”_

Adam finished the letter, shocked by its contents. “That’s it…” He uttered. Everyone looked around in mutual anxiety and terror.

Of all the things to think about, the one thing that kept replaying in my mind was that Nea really didn’t need that toolbox after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love is in the air, friendships have been established, and Nea's temper is shorter than Peter Dinklage.
> 
> What could possibly go wrong?


	3. The Guilty Participant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girl from Ormond is willing to leave her old friends behind for a shot at freedom. Frank Morrison isn't letting her go without a fight.
> 
> The nervous leader needs a plan to get everyone out alive. He wants the help of a master strategist, but someone else will have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this Chapter out, I've been quite busy this week. Thanks for your patience!
> 
> Also, almost 200 hits and 19 kudos! You guys are the best :)

**Herman Carter**

It’s back. The Creator has returned for yet another favor, much to my pleasure. I’m the one that it _needs _above all others. The Creator is capable of creating and destroying worlds on a whim, and yet it needs _me_. I have such admiration and respect for The Creator, and having that respect be requited is unbelievably gratifying.

Now that the victims know the rules, The Creator informs me that I am to notify the servants of this realm as well. That’s how I truly know that I am above the likes of the other Killers; They are merely tools, while I am an advisor and a messenger of an outrageously powerful being.

While my interactions with the other Killers have been few and far between---Experiments are more important than meaningless chit-chat---I know much about them. The archives have all their information: Their backgrounds, their languages, their atrocities, their _weaknesses_. I have spent what must amount to lifetimes in my old world just sifting through it all. The Creator has recognized my intellectual prowess and gave me the privilege of narrowing down which four Killers shall participate in the grand trial. I do not have full control, as The Creator knows best, but I can eliminate the weaklings and others who would inevitably displease The Creator. I do **not** plan to disappoint. I can still feel The Creator’s ravenous hunger, so I know that I must act fast, but this is quite an important decision to make. What requirements must the potential participants fulfill?

Naturally, the participants must be ruthless and cunning; The Russian woman, the swamp creature, the Hillbilly, the Texan cannibal, and the strange animal from Indiana are all savage brutes who act on instinct alone. This is acceptable in a normal trial, but the victims will be on high alert in the grand trial. The Creator cannot afford for its servants to be outsmarted in such a critical situation.

The participants must also be motivated to escape this realm so that they will compete to sacrifice the most victims. Evan Macmillan and Sally Smithson have lost their loved ones and their sanity; They have no reason to desire leaving this place, nor do The Clown or myself, though I hate having something in common with that gluttonous cretin.

Philip Ojomo was broken by The Creator the very moment he arrived here---he was too weak-minded to handle the responsibilities of a servant. He is a shell of his former self, and I suspect that The Creator will be done with him altogether quite soon. Good riddance. In my opinion, he’s just as spineless as Azarov himself.

Though the chosen participants must be ruthless, I have enough sense not to give Freddy Krueger or Danny Johnson the opportunity to leave this place. I killed for science. They, meanwhile, are senseless murderers akin to thugs on the street. I suppose that that applies to just about every single one of these foul servants, but these two in particular are truly detestable. At least Michael Myers has the decency to keep it within the family, barring minor exceptions.

Lastly, Adiris and Amanda Young would both likely be suitable for the grand trial, but I am omitting them for admittedly selfish reasons. They are far too enjoyable to study. I’ve immersed myself in the lore of Adiris’ pagan religion, and wrapping my head around the intricacies of Amanda’s traps is a fantastic pastime. I fear that their records in the archives would disappear were they to leave this realm. After all The Creator would no longer have any use for that information. I suppose that I have found my second flaw: An overwhelming lust for knowledge. It’s hardly even a flaw, as far as I’m concerned.

With that, I have narrowed the selection down to 6 potential candidates. One of them is dead, but she is motivated by rage. Another one is only interested in the Strode girl, but he’ll kill plenty in the grand trial to thwart her escape attempt. The other four share a bond that would normally dissuade them from leaving, but this bond has weakened over time. There’s an ember of distrust among them. All I need to do is stoke the flames with a little tension. I’m sure of it.

I pick up my pen and start to write once more.

* * *

**Susie Blake**

I barely even got to finish the letter before Frank ripped it to shreds and tossed it into the fire. “For real, Susie? Are you seriously thinking of doing that ‘grand trial’ shit? Don’t go soft on me now. We’re _Legion_, remember? We don’t abandon each other, not now, not ever. Right, Jules?” Frank turned to Julie, waiting for validation, and immediately received it. “Yeah, Susie. We’re all besties, why would any of us want to leave?” Julie and Frank started slobbering all over each other before she’d even finished speaking. In between kisses, she continued. “Besides---it’s not like---Jesus, babe, you’re totally choking me here!---there’s anything left for us in that shithole of a world, anyway.”

She was right about that. If any of us ended up back in Ormond,---The real one, that is, not that Spider’s poor imitation---we’d be arrested for murdering that innocent guy in the store. It’s not like I wanted to, Frank forced me!

That’s right. This entire mess is Frank’s fault. All of it. The stealing, the vandalizing, the drugs, the murder, the BEING STUCK IN A NEVER ENDING NIGHTMARE. Frank was the one who did this to us, who MANIPULATED us into doing what we did. I thought he’d at least be a little apologetic after we ended up here, but the guy just doesn’t give a damn. Julie and Joey still worship him like a god, so I suppose he has no reason to feel guilty about anything.

I feel guilty, though. The shame hasn’t faded over time, it’s _intensified_. Every time I hook one of those people, I see Frank’s hand grabbing mine, making me stick that knife into that man. When Julie kisses Frank I remember how easily he controlled us back then.

I’d seen through his act long ago, but I just couldn’t convince Julie to dump him. She’d been entranced by him ever since we met him at that party. I knew from the beginning that Frank’s new girlfriend wasn’t the Julie Easton I’ve known since 2nd grade.

I should’ve left them behind, got back on the right path, but I was worried that Frank would get mad if I ditched them. When Frank’s mad, he’s violent. Some of the blood on his filthy jacket belongs to the girl that he pretends to love. I couldn’t stand possibly being the reason he hurt her…so I stayed. And look where it got me.

I was doing so well, too. All of us were, before we met Frank. Julie was the queen bee of our high school. Joey had been offered an athletic scholarship before we even started our Senior year. On top of that, I was all set to be the valedictorian of our class. I never thought I’d miss my textbooks and teachers like I do now.

That’s why I **_have_** to take this opportunity to escape. I don’t want to kill any more people, but I’m willing to do it one last time if it means I can finally go home. I want to get away from Frank and back to the life I used to have. I don’t care if I’m punished for a crime I was forced to commit, I just want a chance to redeem myself.

I want to make my teachers proud again.

I want to tell my parents how sorry I am and how much I love them. I can still see the looks on their faces when they saw my more recent report cards. I don’t want that to be the last memory I have of my family.

Frank ruined all of that, and yet he continues to pull the strings, lulling us into a false sense of camaraderie. I’ve seen the way he looks at Joey when his back is turned, the way his eyes narrow when Julie returns from a trial. Then he puts his mask back on, both figuratively and literally.

And I’m scared, because I think he knows that I’m on to him.

* * *

**Dwight Fairfield**

After all this time, I still don’t know why I’m the leader here.

I wasn’t the first to arrive, so that can’t be it; Meg and Jake had seated themselves at the campfire long before I staggered in.

I definitely wasn’t the bravest, either. Bill and David routinely scuffle with the Killers while I cower in fear at the thought of them.

I could easily eliminate intelligence and charisma as well. I was a D average loner, but Adam and Claudette are modern-day Aristotles and Ace could charm the pants off of anyone without even trying (and oh, wouldn’t that be nice…).

Even now, in a time where leadership is crucial, Nea had done my job for me; She’d silenced the crowd while Kate and Adam told us about the “grand trial.” It made me feel useless. Like a failure. Like all of those things that mom and dad and my coworkers had said about me were tru-

“Is everything okay, Dwight?” Detective Tapp snapped me out of my thoughts. “You seem more worried than usual.”

The detective had a habit of doing that, of reading your mind like an open book. I guess that’s useful for interrogations, but it’s frustrating when you want to keep things hidden.

“I’m fine, just worried about this trial, is all. So’s everyone else, though, right? You should go check up on those two new people.” I lied. I didn’t need to weigh him down with my personal baggage at a time like this. How can I lead the group if I can’t even pull _myself _together?

A professional detective wouldn’t be fooled that easily, though. I should’ve known better. “Look, you’ve got what it takes to be a leader, Dwight. You’ve proven yourself time and time again. Remember when we were in Haddonfield and you did 4 generators _by yourself_ while Laurie and I got chased? None of us would’ve made it out of that without you.” I remembered it, but I didn’t understand why he acted like it was such an amazing feat on my part. Even Ash can repair generators, and the guy’s only got 1 hand!

“I’m just afraid that I’ll let people down, that someone will die in this trial because of me.” I looked at the fire as I spoke. It was so pathetic, but I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him. Tears welled up in my eyes as I recalled all of the times I’ve failed the others. David gave me a black eye when I left him to escape through the hatch. Nea cursed at me in Swedish for half an hour after she found me in a locker while the Killer had apparently been chasing Feng for most of the trial (It was the invisible guy, how could I have known where he was?!). I let out a sob before covering my mouth. Thank God everyone else is too focused on the trial to notice. That’s the one thing I’m good at: Not being noticed.

Tapp isn’t as good at dealing with people as Claudette or Jane, but I felt him put a hand on my shoulder. I appreciate that he’s stepping out of his comfort zone for me, but I doubt it’s going to help me feel any better.

“I’ve let people down, too. My own colleague got killed because of my actions. People are going to die no matter what you do, Dwight. You can’t keep tabs on 18 people and 4 Killers at once. All that matters is that you do your **damnedest** to keep at least a few of them safe. You can’t save everyone, but as long as you have the confidence, you can get a few of them out of here.”

Tapp’s words were kind, but the only thing that I could really focus on was the bit about his colleague. Someone as calm and collected as Tapp had indirectly killed someone? Tapp always said that the woman in the pig mask was just another criminal he’d been assigned to track down, but maybe she had something to do with his colleague’s death? After all, he seemed borderline obsessed with her every time they were pitted against each other.

I’d been so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn’t responded yet. This is already awkward enough as it is, and I’m making it worse. Add social interactions to the long list of things I’m terrible at. “Thanks, Tapp. It really helps to hear someone like you say that.” I lied for the second time. I gave him a small smile and quickly stood up from the log we’d been sitting on, walking away as fast as I could without drawing anyone else’s attention. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t convinced by my terrible acting, but at least I escaped from his prying eyes.

I was a pitiful leader, and no sweet-talking or coddling would change that. Actions are more powerful than words, so I’m going to take action. I need a plan to get everyone out of the grand trial alive, but I’m not smart enough to come up with it on my own.

I need a strategist, and I know exactly who to talk to.

* * *

**Joey Dean**

Susie has always been kind of a buzzkill, but we’ve let it slide. Julie would bitch and moan if Frank and I didn’t let her bring Susie along, and Julie always gets her way. She’s my friend, but I’m not afraid to admit she’s a spoiled rich girl. I’m just afraid to admit it _out loud_.

Honestly, both of the girls have been getting on my nerves. Frank’s my bro, but he’s got shitty taste in women. She’s fine as hell though, so I get where he’s coming from. Susie doesn’t have the same benefits, sadly. That bright pink hair is a major turnoff.

I just hate that she’s been killing our vibe so much lately, especially after that weird note we got from that Doctor. I almost thought that Susie would actually try to leave, but c’mon, it’s Susie fucking Blake. The girl was so scared of breaking the rules at first that she went home a whole hour **before **her curfew, “just in case.” I’m surprised she even had the balls to join _Legion_.

Susie said that according to the note, in order to volunteer for the trial, we had to throw our weapon into a fire. We made a pact to leave them all on the 2nd floor of the Ormond chalet in case anyone got any bright ideas. Then, when this whole thing blew over, we’d take them back and resume business as usual. _Pfft._ Like anyone besides Susie would dream of leaving a guy like Frank. That man’s the greatest dude I’ve ever met. He doesn’t let anybody get him down. Not teachers, no parents, not anybody, no matter what they say about him. He even got into a fistfight with our hardass hockey coach once. He got suspended, but it was **Bad. Ass. **I’ll be loyal to him until the day I die, so…forever, because this place is magic or some shit. It’s nice knowing that I’ll never get wrinkles like my old man did. Nasty.

We agreed to take turns guarding the weapons, but Frank insisted on going with Susie during her turn. Julie actually got huffy with him, like she actually thought his standards were low enough to fuck Susie. Woooooooooooooooow. That’s an insult in and of itself.

Frank put his foot down for once and didn’t let Julie get what she wanted. I’m proud of him, but I’m also pissed that I have to sit around with Julie while she pouts.

When I feel it’s been long enough, I go up to the 2nd floor (Julie comes along, probably thinking she’s going to catch Frank cheating) to trade places with Frank and Susie. I climb the stairs at a leisurely pace while Julie hastily runs up them, arriving at our designated spot before me.

I hear her let out a scream right as I get up the stairs.

My kerambit and Julie’s knife were exactly where we’d left them, but Frank and Susie are missing. So are their weapons.

A trail of blood in front of us leads around the corner.

* * *

**Feng Min**

My mind likes to wander frequently. Once my mother accepted my gaming, she joked that I should’ve been called The Shining Cheetah rather than The Shining Lion because my mind raced at 100 miles a minute. I daydreamed about video games in school, worried about video games while trying to sleep before tournaments, and cried over video games while throwing back shots in downtown bars. I scowled at the thought of that last one. I was so weak back then. The only good things about this place were that it had honed my skills and improved my reaction time.

It seemed like my mind wasn’t the only one racing now, after the news of a “grand trial.” As far as I was concerned, it was just another challenge. Sure, I’d love to go back home and make up for my past mistakes, but this place provided the same thrill as video games did for me. Whether I survived or not wasn’t important; All that matters is that I put up a good fight and do well for the team.

However, that very same team isn’t as lax about the trials as I am, and our debates quickly devolved to petty squabbles over things that weren’t even relevant to the upcoming trial. Nancy was scolding Steve for hitting on most of the girls here (Including me, which I found quite hilarious. He fumbled over his words and made a complete fool out himself. This guy couldn’t even seduce a Goomba if he tried.) while Quentin---in-between his infamous micronaps---desperately tried to pay attention to whatever Nancy was saying. Holy shit, dude, that guy needs sleeping pills or something. I know how it feels to try and perform well without sleep, but I can’t imagine running from the Killers or repairing generators without getting any shuteye beforehand.

Claudette and Jake shuffled through the crowd toward me. Much to my delight, Claudette excitedly asked me a video game-related question. “So we just found out that both of us love _Animal Crossing_, but we’ve been here since 2005. Have there been any new installments?”

“Wait,” I said, confused. “You’ve been dating for more than 2 seconds and you JUST NOW found out what video games you both like? You might as well have not even known each other’s names until now.” I scoffed.

Claudette merely chuckled and Jake glared at me. I don’t know which of those reactions pisses me off more.

Jane, hearing our conversation, took the opportunity to spout some bullshit about video games being unhealthy. I guess when you’re so used to talking on TV, you think EVERYONE suddenly cares about your trash opinions. “ViDeO gAmEs CaUsE vIoLeNcE” my ass, Jane. Fucking baby boomers.

I’m not usually glad to see Dwight Fairfield, but I could’ve kissed him when he appeared out of nowhere and urgently dragged me away from that dreadful conversation. Being the little shit that I am, I flipped Jane the bird as Dwight pulled me out of the crowd. She didn’t look very amused.

Now on the edge of the clearing and away from the group, I noticed just how distressed Dwight looked. “Uh, are you good, dude? Did you steal some of the Clown’s drugs or something?”

“Feng, this is serious. We need to come up with a plan for the grand trial.”

Oh, right. That. Wait, why the fuck would he choose _me_ of all people? He spends half the day drooling over David’s abs, but wants to spend quality alone time with the scrawny Asian chick? Maybe he _did _find some drugs.

Before I could even question his reasoning, Dwight had his own question for me.

“You play strategy games, r-right?”

“Eh, mostly PvP FPS games, like Overwa-“

“Yeah, whatever. So you can help me plan this, can’t you? Please, everyone’s lives are on the line and you’re the expert here. I need your help!”

Our unofficial leader just asked me to come up with a plan to save everyone’s lives and I don’t even know how much time I’ll have to do it. Not even a druggy would be crazy enough for this; This place must’ve driven him **_completely_** crazy.

But y’know what? Fuck it.

Challenge accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One participant down, three to go.
> 
> Can Feng and Dwight save their friends, or will they all be led to their dooms?


	4. The Vengeful Participant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even with a chance of escape on the horizon, things aren't all sunshine and rainbows at the campfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long on this!!! I wasn't sure where I wanted to take this chapter for a while (I ended up writing and scrapping several different versions of one of this chapter's segments).
> 
> Next update will be a lot sooner, sorry again.
> 
> ALSO: I decided to try writing this chapter in 3rd person limited POV because I think it might help the story flow a bit better. Let me know if you prefer this or the 1st person from the past chapters :)
> 
> Without further ado, here's chapter 4!

**Claudette Morel**

Ever since childhood, Claudette has been quite good at distracting others... and herself. She’d daydream during any lesson that wasn’t related to science. She’d cunningly change the subject when her parents asked about friends that she didn’t have.

She’d thought she could finally stop treating every conversation like a landmine after Jake confessed his feelings for her. Yet when she’d finally found love, she was still forced to distract her boyfriend whenever his temper seemed to be getting the better of him.

Neither of them did well in social situations; Maybe that’s what brought them together in the first place? After living in voluntary seclusion for so many years, all of this shouting and chaos at the campfire could make Jake’s blood boil in a heartbeat. The stress brought on by the revelation of this strange new trial was making things even worse, Claudette could tell.

She felt just as anxious about it as him, but his recent mood swings were concerning.

They _upset_ her. One minute, he’d be holding her hand, looking at her like she was a prized jewel; The next, he’d treat her like a stranger, like just another obstacle to navigate in this horrible place.

What had happened to the standoffish yet sweet boy who had eventually opened up to her about his old family troubles? Where was the man who had spent countless trials gathering flowers for Claudette when she’d told him about her interest in botany? How long had it been since he’d shown her any affection? **_Too_** long, that’s for damn sure.

Oddly enough, despite distancing himself from his lover, Jake was now more overprotective of Claudette than ever. She’d found it endearing, even comforting, at first, but it had grown out of control. The others couldn’t so much as look at Jake or Claudette the wrong way without him flying into an indignant rage. He’d storm off into the forest, and Claudette would have to chase him down and corral him back to the campfire. He’d look at her in a way that almost made Claudette doubt his love for her. Then, he’d come to his senses and mutter a curt “Sorry.” This cycle repeated itself between just about every trial.

Even now, she notices his fury nearing a crescendo: He taps his boot on the ground, wraps and unwraps his scarf, crosses and uncrosses his arms. It’s happened enough times for her to see it coming.

That’s what she hated the most. This incessant pouting was now their routine. She felt less like a girlfriend and more like a therapist.

Once again, Claudette swoops in with a perfectly timed---and perfectly rehearsed---distraction.

“What do you miss most, Jake? F-from your old life, I mean.”

He looks over at her, almost confused for a bit, before responding with a “Why are you asking?” and turning away again.

After all they’ve went through and spoken to each other about, he was still defensive about the littlest things. It baffled her. She remembered those times where everyone else was asleep, or at a trial, and they’d stay up together and just…talk: Their pasts, their hobbies, their childish gossip about the rest of the group. Sharing their feelings had been so easy during those moments.

Why couldn’t it stay that way? Claudette thought herself to be an empathetic person, but loving Jake Park had become exhausting. Thinking that made her feel like a monster, but it was true.

“Why am I asking?” The exasperated girl replied, livid---well, as livid as the meek Claudette Morel could be, anyway. “We’ve going to get out of here. We’re going to go home, Jake! Is it a felony for me to ask what you look forward to getting back to?”

He scoffed at that, as if Claudette had said something utterly ridiculous, but he at least had the decency to give Claudette a satisfactory answer. “My cabin….my mom….peace and quiet, mostly. Maybe a video game or two.”

From what Jake had told Claudette, his mother had been Jake’s sole lifeline to the rest of the world after he moved away from home. From the way Jake described her, she was only a few steps away from sainthood. Claudette loved hearing Jake reminisce about his fond memories with her---mainly because they were the _only _fond memories he had from his old life---but bringing up any member of Jake’s family, benevolent or not, wasn’t a good idea with Jake’s current mood.

Instead, Claudette latched onto Jake’s last sentence as if it were the holy grail of convenient diversions.

“Oh, you like video games? You never told me until now.” She said a little too quickly, faltering when Jake merely gave her a look of disinterest. ”Umm, w-what kind?”

He answered into his scarf, too embarrassed to say it very loudly, but Claudette was willing to be patient with him if it meant getting a short glimpse of the man she’d once fallen in love with.

Eventually, she heard it loud and clear: Animal Crossing was Jake’s favorite game. More importantly, his face lit up when Claudette revealed her mutual interest in it. Seeing him smile like that made her feel…better. Much better. Better than she’d felt in a **long** time, actually. Chasing the newfound high, Claudette suggested that they talked to Feng about it; She’d know if there were any new additions to the series for Claudette and Jake to enjoy when they (hopefully) escaped from this nightmare in the next trial.

Weaving their way through the crowd, Claudette’s question for Feng went unanswered when Dwight came out of seemingly nowhere and dragged the gamer away from the rest of the group. She’d not gotten a good, long look at him, but she could tell that he was nervous about something, more than likely the “grand trial”. Everyone was, of course, especially the anxiety-riddled Claudette, but Dwight has a bigger weight on his shoulders than the others. He’s the leader of this dysfunctional group, after all. Claudette understands that such a big responsibility could eat away at a person like Dwight. She’s known him longer than almost everyone here.

She can tell that they’re talking about something important, but she wants to respect their privacy. Claudette remembers the time her college roommate logged into her forum while she was gone, reading all of her private messages. Claudette didn’t have the backbone or courage back then to properly express her frustration; She’d just cried until there weren’t any tears left to shed.

Claudette turns to head back to the fire, but Jake beckons her closer to Dwight and Feng’s hushed conversation. She’s determined to put her foot down for once instead of giving into Jake’s childish desires…

Her resolve crumbles when he flashes her another smile.

**Nancy Wheeler**

One day your little brother’s friend is being controlled by a monster from another dimension; The next, you and your ex-boyfriend are trapped in **_another_ **another dimension full of serial killers.

It had taken a lot of getting used to, but after what they’d been through, Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington have learned to adapt quickly. The Demogorgon was far less threatening now than it was before, since nobody could permanently die here, and The Spider was just a watered down Mind Flayer. “Been there, done that,” as Steve put it.

Even the stress of this new “grand trial” hadn’t really fazed them too much. They were both confident that Eleven would find them and figure out how to free them shortly. It _had _been almost three months since they’d vanished, and they haven’t heard anything from her in that time, but having Steve by her side through this ordeal has helped Nancy keep her mind off of that.

What _was_ on her mind, however, was the fact that the leader of this group didn’t know how to lead.

Nancy spent most of her time now interviewing the other survivors about themselves and this realm while also saving the girls from Steve’s terrible ice cream-related pick-up lines. In fact, that’s what she had been doing at the very moment she’d seen Dwight and Feng slink away from the campfire, shortly followed by Jake and a reluctant Claudette.

From there, Nancy, being the young newshound she was, had dragged a protesting Steve and an exhausted Quentin---She felt sorry for him, and wanted to let him sleep, but if this was related to the grand trial, he needed to know what was going on---over to investigate. It didn’t take long before the entire group took notice and joined them in what was revealed to be a strategy meeting for the next trial.

If things hadn’t been chaotic before, they certainly were now.

“And when the hell were ya planning to tell u about this, eh?” David (The British one) hollered. He reminded her a bit too much of her misogynistic coworkers, but he was a tiny bit smarter and much, _much _braver. Unfortunately, that came at the cost of him being far meaner and shorter-tempered, which he was demonstrating now.

“He has a point, y’know.” Jane butted in from the back of the large crowd. “We don’t know when this grand trial will start. For all we know, it could begin in the next couple minutes, so if you want to come up with a plan, you two need to discuss it with _all of us_.” Jane wasn’t as aggressive as David was, her tone simply being that of a scolding teacher or parent. She had the charisma to stand up for what she believed in without adding fuel to whatever fire happened to be burning. After hearing about Jane’s motherless childhood, Nancy both admired and pitied the celebrity.

Dwight stammered, at a loss for a good rebuttal. It was clear to Nancy that someone else needed to be calling the shots, but being so new to the group, her opinion on this kind of thing likely wouldn’t be as valued. It was just so bizarre to her that they would choose such an indecisive person to make all of their difficult choices.

Then again, it had been challenging for Nancy to choose between Steve and Jonathan, so she couldn’t criticize Dwight much on that front.

While the nervous wreck was struggling to do his job, Feng was stuck justifying both of their actions to everyone. “Look, why the hell is this such a big deal? We were planning to tell everyone soon, Dwight just wanted to get some ideas together first so we didn’t make asses of ourselves.”

“Bitching and moaning isn’t going to fix anything, that’s for goddamn sure.” Bill intervened, causing the overwhelmed Dwight to let out a sigh of relief. Laurie, who had quickly bonded with Nancy due to their similar time periods and personalities, chimed in. “Exactly. Let’s just set our differences aside and get down to business.” Bill, along with the other semi-reasonable Survivors, seemed thankful for her support of his statement. Like now, Bill is often a voice of reason (As long as Nea isn’t talking, anyway), but Nancy tries not to speak to him unless it’s absolutely necessary.

When it came up that Bill had died before coming here, Nancy had hoped in vain that Barb had somehow ended up here, too; Nancy could apologize to her for all the things she’d said and done to her best friend at Steve’s party. That flicker of hope was snuffed out just as quickly as it had been lit, though, much to Nancy’s bitter disappointment.

She doesn’t really have anything personal against the old soldier, but now, every time she looks at him, she remembers the guilt and grief brought on by Barb’s death.

Everyone was still a bit on edge, what with the trial that determined their fates and the constant fighting that came with it, but that just made them more motivated to cooperate (At least, temporarily). After much debating, a rudimentary plan was made:

Laurie, Ash, Meg, David, Feng, and Nea would be the distractors; They’d do their best to divert the Killers’ attention away from the rest of the group long enough for the generators to get finished. Laurie in particular seemed to be almost eager to be chased, likely on the off chance that her brother would be in this trial. Laurie confided in Nancy enough for the brunette to know the gruesome details of her past. Nancy had been appalled by Laurie’s story of Michael Myers stabbing their older sister Judith to death.

Nancy imagined _her _brother Mike under that mask, stalking her through the streets of their neighborhood. It made her sick.

When any of the aforementioned 6 distractions were inevitably hooked, others would step in to swiftly save them. Claudette, Adam, Bill, Jane, and Steve volunteered to focus on unhooking and healing anyone who needed it. In the meantime, they’d repair generators with the third and final group: Dwight, Jake, Kate, Nancy, David Tapp, Quentin, and Jeff. Ace said something about just looting chests, but after a stern look from Kate, he also volunteered to repair generators.

Once the groups had been decided, Feng took the time to remind everyone of where the best pallets and windows were. They had no clue which place they’d end up in, so Feng went place by place: The small shack that was usually in the corner of each map, the gas station in Autohaven Wreckers, and so on. This part made Nancy nervous, and she could tell Steve felt the same. They were subpar at best when it came to being chased, and they hadn’t been here long enough to memorize the layouts of the many enormous places in this realm. Nancy studied the various buildings during trials, and being such a good student helped her learn some of them, but Steve was another story. He was capable, even without his baseball bat, but Nancy was worried for him.

She swore right there and then to get her friend and the others back home, safe and sound, no matter what.

**No compromises.**

**No sacrifices.**

**No one left behind.**

**Quentin Smith**

Quentin’s immense exhaustion had put him into a state of perpetual delirium, and recent events had only made it more severe.

The letter from the Doctor made him paranoid that the Killers, including Freddy, could physically interact with them even outside of trials.

This fear made him sleep even less than he already was.

Freddy haunted his dreams the few times he slept, and the only way he knew it wasn’t the real Krueger was that he wasn’t bleeding when he woke up.

The other Survivors could tell from the beginning that Quentin needed help, but they didn’t know how to stop his suffering. Someone would occasionally find some sleeping medication in the hospital during a trial, but it didn’t last long and wasn’t very effective.

Combining all this with the arrival of Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler and Quentin was sure that he was being taunted by The Spider.

Her porcelain skin. Her gorgeous dark hair. That same determination to keep going, even when staring death in the face. Nancy Wheeler was so much like Nancy Holbrook, and it made Quentin yearn for his crush even more.

After all they’d been through together, Quentin wondered if Nancy Holbrook was still looking for him. She probably thought that Freddy had taken him, and she wouldn’t be entirely wrong. The Spider had brought him here, but Freddy Krueger was still his main tormentor.

He missed Nancy so much. This Wheeler girl’s arrival had twisted the knife already stabbed into his heart.

And that wasn’t even the end of it.

Steve and her had come here together. Were they dating? He didn’t know, and it didn’t really interest him. What mattered was that they’d been allowed to stay together. **That’s so unfair.**

Quentin knew it was selfish, that he should be grateful that Nancy Holbrook is finally safe from Freddy, but he wanted her here. He wanted to see her again, even if it meant she had to suffer here with him. Why could this Steve guy have this Nancy with him, but Quentin couldn’t have his?

Bullshit.

And it knew. The Spider knew how this made him feel. This was intentional, it had to be. As if this place wasn’t hellish enough. He wanted **_his_** Nancy. This cruel replica, here to mock him, fueled his desire for freedom.

Quentin had to get out of here, he had to find Nancy Holbrook. The **_real _**Nancy. He’d escape. He’d find her, and she’d be his.

And if he didn’t, he’d at least make sure this Nancy knew how painful it is to be separated from someone you love.

**Rin Yamaoka**

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Rin Yamaoka was (just barely) living proof.

She still feels the sting of her father’s betrayal, literally _and _figuratively. He’d taken everything away from her: Her beauty. Her mother. Her future. She **hated **him. Every time she sunk her katana into a victim’s flesh, she imagined how satisfying it would be to do the same to her dad.

Rin’s rage could not be quelled, and it was worsened due to her being tricked by The Spider. She’d been promised revenge, but Rin hasn’t seen her father here even once, let alone made him feel her pain. He probably isn’t even here at all.

Now, though, she’s been given the chance to leave, to finally get what she’s wanted for so long. She’ll die as soon as she leaves this place, but that won’t be an issue; Her grudge is too strong to be stopped by death. She’ll haunt that man for the rest of eternity for what he did to her.

Rin remembered every little detail of that night: The cool breeze on her face as she biked home from work, finding her mother’s mutilated corpse, that distant look in her father’s eyes as he tore her apart in their own home.

There was a small part of Rin that remembered different things about her dad.

Her birthday parties, which Father always made sure were extravagant and fun, even when money was running low.

She remembered how much he and Mother loved each other before Mother fell ill. Before their shouting matches started.

Rin remembered that she had wanted to be an English teacher in Kyoto. She recalled how proud her father had been when the university’s acceptance letter came, the happiness shining in his eyes.

As she discarded the Doctor’s letter and tossed her katana into the fire, a small voice in the back of her mind reminded Rin that she had once loved her father, and he had once loved her.

That didn’t matter.

She silenced that voice immediately, burying it in more rancor.

The Rin Yamaoka that misses those sweet moments is the Rin with the bleeding heart.

The Rin Yamaoka that wants bloody, gruesome revenge is the Rin with the broken soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically:
> 
> Jake is a terrible boyfriend
> 
> Quentin is jealous AF of Steve and Nancy
> 
> Rin = Hoes Mad
> 
> JUST A COUPLE MORE CHAPTERS UNTIL THE GRAND TRIAL WOOT WOOT ALL ABOARD THE HYPE TRAIN!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> The Entity is about to spice things up in a major way, it seems. What does it have in store for our poor heroes?
> 
> Please leave a comment if you'd like, and have a good day!.


End file.
